“What a well-preserved relic!” I peered down, and sure enough, it was entirely in Elvish.
Beside it sat a piece of parchment and a quill. My uncle slid them toward me. “In case you want to write it down while you translate.”
I picked up the quill, my mind already buzzing with anticipation. “Thank you, Uncle. I’ll get to work.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “And I’ll go find my spellcaster so your warrior may be let in. I’ll be right back.”
He left me in his library, leaving the door open behind him, and I hunched over the book and began to read. I thought it best to read it first, being careful with my translation before I beganto write it down in fae, so I left the quill unused in my hand for the time being.
Forehead furrowing, I translated it to myself as I went, and with each line, the extent of my uncle’s discovery began to sink in.
The God of Night created his creatures of darkness to serve in his war against the fae. Revered by the elves, the God of Night endeavored to help them maintain control of their realm. Hundreds of his vamfeers roamed the land under the God of Night’s control, and they killed fae and then turned them into nightmarish monsters, more vamfeers created to serve the god. The God of Night enslaved them. Fed from them. Owned them.
But when the fae pleaded with the gods and goddesses to help them take back their realm from the elves, a battle ensued between the Goddess of Light and the God of Night, and the goddess won. She banished his horrific vamfeers and took control of the realm once more.
Yet, his elvish followers remained.
I paused, and my mind buzzed with amazement that my uncle had found information on the God of Night, exactly what I’d been hoping Nathaniel’s friend would be able to uncover. I tapped the quill to my mouth and tried to recall what I knew of ancient history. This tome spoke of a time from long, long ago, even before the elvish wars.
A thud came from down the hall, and I looked over my shoulder. But the hall remained empty, and I didn’t hear anything further, so I resumed reading.
For many centuries, the God of Night’s followers remained in the shadows, trying to call the god back to their realm, but he would not heed their pleas until one day, a faithful servant built a stone temple and infused it with magic from the stars.
He was a scholar, a potion master, and he sought to call the God of Night to his aid.
After many sacrifices, the God of Night at last responded, and the fairy was able to harness the God of Night’s ancient servants through a potion that could change fae into long-dead vamfeers.
I jerked upright and read that paragraph again, wondering if I’d misunderstood it because it almost sounded like it was speaking of the present day. And the second time through only revealed that my first translation was correct.
Mouth gaping, I flipped the book’s cover over, but it held no title nor an author’s name. Being careful not to lose my page, I thumbed through the first few pages of the book to see if there was any identifying information to state where it’d been printed or how long ago.
But there was nothing.
Confusion filled me even more, and I again studied the binding and pages. They looked brand new, as if this book had only been created recently. Almost as if it were homemade. Leaning down, I sniffed.
Neither thyme nor anise preserving scents rose from the pages, making me think this tome looked new because itwasnew. “How strange.”
I resumed reading, and another sound came from the hall, a sliding sound, and then the squeak of a door’s hinges. I glancedover my shoulder again, but as before, I didn’t see anything. Yet, someone was definitely out there.
“Uncle Arnel?” I called.
Silence.
A slow-growing sense of unease began to fill me, even though I knew it could have just been a servant. Despite that, my stomach tumbled, and I tried not to worry that neither my uncle nor Royden had shown up yet, but I reasoned that his spellcaster had perhaps wandered somewhere, and my uncle was still searching for them.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to stop my wayward thoughts and instead concentrated on the beauty of the outdoors, since that usually grounded me. Sunlight streamed through the library’s windows, and a gust of wind blew through the trees in the Wood. The idyllic scene captured my attention as I contemplated what this book was or who the author had been. But just as my heart rate calmed, and I was about to start rereading, a flash of something white caught my eye in the Wood.
A large tree branch swayed in the wind, and white stone again appeared through its leaves. It was the same structure I’d initially seen outside, and it once again peeked into view.
I stepped away from the table and went to the window, peering closer at that structure. As the leaves and branches wavered more, the stone became more visible.
Pillars.
There were stone pillars in the Wood, and they appeared to be in a?—
I squinted and activated my sight sensory magic, zooming my focus entirely on that structure.
My breath sucked in.
